


Not Quite On The Same Page

by Nostalgia_101



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5165093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nostalgia_101/pseuds/Nostalgia_101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roommates AU where best friends Emma and Killian keep choosing the most inopportune times to confess their deeper feelings to one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite On The Same Page

**Author's Note:**

> This just started out from a 'put me down it's just a sprained ankle' AU Tumblr prompt and kind of grew into a monster.

“Swan, you don’t need to… You’re going to hurt yourself… Bloody hell, Swan, it’s just a sprained ankle, put me down, love.”

Emma kept one arm gripped tightly around Killian’s waist but lowered his leg back to the ground with the other after attempting a bridal lift. An extremely _drunk_ bridal lift. She furrowed her brow and gave her roommate a hard poke in the chest. “I’m trying to be a superhero and you’re not helping,” she groused, swaying slightly on the spot.

“Ah yes,” said Killian, raising an eyebrow, “the adventures of Captain McDrunk and her trusty sidekick, vodka, it appears.”

“Joke’s on you, mister jokes guy that makes jokes,” Emma crowed, removing her poking finger from his chest to squish into his cheek. “I’ve only had beer tonight.” She scrunched up her nose in contemplation. “And maybe tequila.”

“The world’s supply I take it?” he replied, gently moving her hand away from his face lest he add gouging to his injury list.

She shrugged, giving his waist a squeeze as she smiled up at him. “You were late. We started without you.”

“Technically the _plane_ was late taking off from Heathrow,” he said, giving their friend, David, a nod as he emerged in the hallway after depositing Killian’s luggage. “Surely that gives the guest of honor some leeway, milady?”

Emma snorted at him. “You always get, like, a million times more fancy after you see your brother.”

“One has no clue what thoust is speaking of,” Killian said, breaking into a grin at her beleaguered groan of annoyance.

“Are you two going to stand in the doorway of your apartment all night reenacting Shakespeare or whatever it is you’re doing?” David interrupted, standing in front of them with a smirk. “Or are you actually going to join the homecoming party we painstakingly put together?”

“Painstakingly, hmm?” Killian cocked his head to the side, throwing David a dubious look. “I can see how purchasing the beer would’ve been extremely difficult for you, mate. My condolences.”

David bowed his head in thanks, noticing two objects in his line of sight when his eyes were cast downward. “Why are your crutches on the ground?”

“He wouldn’t let me be Kevin,” Emma solemnly replied, shaking her head in disappointment.

“Right, of course,” said David in understanding, before raising a confused eyebrow at Killian for further clarification.

“Costner,” Killian supplied, giving David a smile as he retrieved the fallen aides. “Swan thought she’d attempt to reenact The Bodyguard but appears to have forgotten she’s not in the habit of bench-pressing humans.”

Unraveling herself from Killian’s torso as David placed the crutches back under his arms, Emma gave a loud scoff. “Pfft, I could totally lift you, Jones. You don’t know what my guns are packing.” She lifted up her right arm and flexed her bicep making a ‘pchew pchew’ sound as she aimed her elbow Killian’s way. “ _Gotcha_.”

Killian tsked at her, clutching at the imaginary wound on his chest. “Oi, some bodyguard you are. I thought you were supposed to protect me not shoot me?”

Swaying back into his space, Emma gave him a mischievous smirk. “Want me to kiss it better?”

David pointedly cleared his throat. “And that’s my cue as ex-designated airport chauffeur to finally get a beer,” he said, spinning on his heel and heading for the kitchen.

Finding it difficult to scratch behind his ear while he was leaning on crutches, Killian settled for a rough swallow and a prayer that his cheeks weren’t tinged red. “How about we go say hello to the rest of the crew?” he said, surging forward into the apartment, waiting for her to follow. “Frankly I’m offended I didn’t get a welcoming committee at the door as soon as I arrived home, the ingrates,” he added in jest.

Emma nudged the door closed with her foot before ambling along beside him. “I told them that was my job,” she said, giving the collar of his leather jacket a swift tug. “Come on, Jones, you need beer,” she added, tottering in front to lead the way.

“I’m on medication for my ankle, Swan,” he replied, biting back a fond smile at her declaration. “I’ll have to stick to water.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Oh well, more for me,” she grinned.

* * *

After a couple of hours spent catching up with his friends, Killian retired to his room while the party continued to rage on. Or the more subdued version of rage where everyone was embroiled in a very drunk, very raucous game of Monopoly. Killian’s sober mind was not equipped to deal with David offering to flash his abs at Mary Margaret in return for her get out of jail card, which led to Will suggesting they up the stakes and turn it into ‘strip Monopoly’ (thankfully this idea was shot down as were his ideas of ‘strip Uno’, ‘strip Candy Land’ and ‘just strip ‘cause it’s a party, innit?’).

Balancing his crutches against the bedside table, Killian sat on his mattress and carefully lifted his injured ankle up before shuffling back to lie under the covers; grateful he’d changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt earlier. He rested his hands under his head and stared up at the ceiling, cursing at himself for not turning off the light before he got comfortable. Killian was about to sit up when there was a soft knock at the door. He smiled when it opened and a blonde head poked through the gap.

“Monopoly sucks,” Emma sighed, leaning her body against the doorframe.

Killian chuckled. “Did you do your usual trick of buying too many hotels then getting lumped with all the tax?”

“…No,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him when he continued to laugh. “Shut up.” Shuffling into the room, Emma closed the door behind her and kicked off her boots, one going sailing into the wall with a thud. She stood at the edge of Killian’s bed, looking down at him. “Permission to come aboard?” she said with a mock salute.

With a fond smile, Killian nodded. “Aye, ‘twould be an honor, Captain McDrunk.”

“I thought I told you to shut it,” she chided, before inelegantly climbing over him to settle on the other side of the bed on top of the comforter. Curling up on her side, she slid one hand under the pillow as Killian turned and did the same. “How was Liam?” she asked. 

“Good,” Killian replied, smiling when Emma rolled her eyes at his brief answer. “Very good. It was nice to have a proper catch up with him.”

Emma nestled her head further into the pillow. “What else did you do?”

“Swan, I Skyped with you constantly during the two months I was there,” he said with an affectionate laugh. “You already know what we did.”

She gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “That was talking to computer Killian,” she said, lifting her hand lay on top of his arm. “I wanna know from real Killian.” She stroked her fingers against his skin, toying with the sleeve of his shirt. “How’d you hurt your ankle? That’s something I don’t know.”

Killian watched the movement of her fingers, clearing his throat when he realized he should answer. “It’s not much of a story I’m afraid, love.”

Emma pursed her lips in thought before leaning in closer to him. “It was something embarrassing wasn’t it,” she said knowingly. “I’m your best friend, you can tell me,” she coaxed, before her mouth curved into a grin. “Did you try the Single Ladies dance again?”

He gaped at her. “How did you know about…? Bloody _hell_ , I’m going to murder Scarlet the git,” Killian groaned, Emma’s laughter washing over him. “Robin’s stag do was supposed to go by Vegas rules – what happened there stayed there.”

“It’s OK, Beyoncé,” she comforted with a gleam in her eye, giving him a pat on the face. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“You have my eternal gratitude,” he said dryly, smiling when her hand dropped back to his arm. “But alas I didn’t succumb to a dance injury.”

“Then what?”

Killian licked his lips, averting his gaze from hers. “I tripped. You know what a clumsy sod I am,” he said casually.

“On what?” She pinched his arm when he didn’t answer. “A _crumpet_?” she teased, cajoling a smile out of him. “A cup ‘o tea, guvnor?” she added in a terrible imitation of his accent, giggling when he reached out to try and put his hand over her mouth to stop her from talking. “Tell me or it gets worse, _mate_ ,” she warned with a grin, grabbing his hand to hold it between them on the bed.

Killian traced his thumb over her knuckles. “You know that Skype call I missed from you last week?” He saw her nod. “Well it wasn’t because I was out at the pub with Liam,” he said sheepishly. “It was because I was cursing that I was late back from an outing for our scheduled chat, so I ran inside… and promptly tripped up the stairs like an arse.”

Blinking at him with a look of surprise, Emma felt his hand still on hers, knowing he was fighting the urge to scratch behind his ear. “Huh,” she said in a soft tone of wonder, more to herself than anything.

“The irony of it all is that I didn’t make the call in time anyway, so…” he paused when Emma suddenly sat up and scooted down the end of the bed. “Swan?” He watched as she took the few short, wobbly steps to the light switch on the wall and flicked it off, shrouding them in near-darkness. The display on Killian’s alarm clock left the room with the barest hint of visibility, but he felt Emma climb back on the bed more than saw her. He stilled as she kicked her way under the covers and snuggled in next to him, lifting his arm to drape around her. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you from the airport, Jones,” she whispered into the air between them. “I couldn’t… I was nervous.” Killian felt his heart clench when Emma tilted her head and pressed her mouth softly to his cheek in a brief kiss.

“I missed you, though,” she murmured against his skin, bunching the material of his t-shirt in her hand as she rested her head on his chest.

Killian tried to relax his body, the silk of her hair tickling his nose as he dipped his head towards her and tightened his embrace. “And I you,” he said quietly, closing his eyes.

He awoke early in the morning, his ankle throbbing and the other side of the bed cold and empty.

* * *

Emma allowed the scalding hot water of the shower to wash over her as she stood huddled under the spray, her eyes shut tight. She’d been in there for at least twenty minutes but figured the mother of all hangovers (and the father, and little hangover children) would give her some freedom from the wrath of the others. She was pretty sure David and Mary Margaret were still in bed in the guest room anyway, and Killian… Emma felt her cheeks heat up, and not just because the water was amped to the temperature of Satan’s swimming pool.

Killian was hopefully still asleep too and not aware of the fact that Emma had woken clinging to him like some bear on a tree. A bear that liked to accidentally drool on people’s t-shirts. A goddamn moron bear that drank too much and couldn’t remember if she said anything incriminating about… feelings.

Shutting off the shower with a loud sigh, Emma stepped out and dried herself off with a fluffy towel before pulling on her comfortable ‘thank crap it’s Sunday and I can lounge around the house’ yoga pants and oversized Ramones t-shirt. She shoved her hair up in a ponytail, wincing at her reflection in the mirror. It was nice to know her insides matched her outsides, aka a steady walk to nausea and death. She was contemplating on how much of a jackass she’d look like if she wore her sunglasses inside the house all day when she left the bathroom and heard MasterChef Junior blasting from the television in the living room.

“Swan!” Killian called out gleefully from his prone position on the couch, his crutches lying messily on the floor. “You recorded all the cooking!”

She winced at his exuberant tone battling with the dull thud of her headache, taking a few tentative steps into the room. “Of course I did. You told me to, remember? Said you needed to marathon it when you got home?”

He nodded at her with a brilliant smile. “That I did. You’re an absolute marvel, Swan. A marvelous marvel.”

“O…K?” Emma tilted her head, knowing her hangover without a coffee fix was probably messing with her mind but Killian was acting... odd. “Are you alright?” she asked, taking a few more steps closer to the couch, noting he only had one sock on. “Is your ankle hurting?”

“Oh no, quite the opposite, quite the opposite,” Killian replied, shifting himself slightly so that he was propped up straighter against the cushions. “I took a pill or two and it was magic, Swan. I can’t even feel my ankle.”

She frowned at him, perching carefully on the arm of the sofa. “What _kind_ of pill?”

He shrugged, giving her another grin. “Buggered if I know! Just something Liam popped in my luggage before I left in case the usual paracetamol wasn’t working.” Killian slung his arm over the back of the couch. “I think it was from when he did his back in at work. He warned me they made him a bit loopy but aside from some jet lag I feel _extremely_ normal.”

“God, you’re probably on horse tranquilizers or something,” Emma muttered, rubbing her temple and briefly wondering if she could pinch a couple before grousing to herself that _one_ of them should be alert and not alarmed. Sighing, she gently patted his good leg and gave him a smile. “How about a coffee? I’m about to make myself a vat of it, I’m sure I could spare you some.”

“I would indeed love a beverage, Emma,” he replied earnestly, shaking his head at her in wonder. “You’re a marvel, Swan, have I told you that?”

“Yeah, you may have mentioned it,” Emma quickly replied, feeling a hot flush creep up the back of her neck as she stood. “Put the TV on pause while I make the drinks and I’ll watch with you.”

“Righto, Swan!” he cheered, looking abashed when Emma put her finger to her lips to shush him. “Sorry, the houseplants are sleeping aren’t they,” he added in a stage whisper before chuckling. “House _guests_ not plants, I’m sure they don’t have leaves.” Killian paused in thought. “Do you think Dave would like to be a flower?” he asked seriously.

Biting back a smirk, Emma shrugged. “You know what? How about you ask him later, he’d love that.” She walked out into the kitchen and brewed the coffee, throwing a few pieces of bread into the toaster while she was there. She wasn’t sure if her stomach would stop doing the samba anytime soon, but knew some sort of food would make a better dance partner than nothing. Emma waited for the toast to pop up and took it out to butter, smiling when she could hear Killian humming to himself while he waited. She knew she shouldn’t endorse this bizarre jet lag/David after dentist combo her housemate had going on, but if it helped her to avoid any awkwardness after last night’s events (of which she still couldn’t really recall… except, oh god, did she _shoot_ Killian with _arm_ guns? Jesus…), then so be it.

Swallowing down a few Advil with some water (not quite ‘magic’ pills but good enough), Emma balanced the two mugs of coffee on a tray along with a plate of toast and carried it into the living room. Killian had maneuvered himself so that there was room for her to sit beside him, his leg propped up on the wooden coffee table. He gave her another smile as she handed him the drink before placing the tray in between them.

“The toast looks amazing, well done,” he said, picking up a triangle and biting into it.

Emma curled up into her corner of the couch, draping the blanket over her legs, and raised an eyebrow at him. “We’re literally about to watch a show where tiny humans make three-course meals out of truffles and foie gras, and you’re complimenting my burnt bread?”

He shrugged, taking another large bite of toast. “I like everything you do, Swan.”

Scoffing at him, she lifted her mug to her lips to hide her embarrassed smile. “Shut up and press play, Jones.”

Emma felt her headache slowly start to subside by the time episode two rolled around, and her stomach had settled enough by the beginning of episode three to genuinely appreciate the croquembouche an eight-year-old was putting together that was nearly taller than her. Emma turned to Killian to make a comment about the choux pastry when she saw that he was staring at her with a smile. “What?” she said, wiping the side of her face. “Do I have something on me?” 

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “I’m just happy you’re not Copper,” he said, tapping his fingers on top of the TV remote.

She threw him a bemused look. “You’re happy I’m not your brother’s _dog_?” she said wryly. “I’m not really sure how to respond to that, Jones.”

“No, no, no, not in a bad way, love,” he rushed apologetically, waving his hands in placation. “It’s just, when Liam was at work and I was home by myself I’d watch TV and only have Copper for company,” he said wistfully. “And it just wasn’t the same. Copper doesn’t believe in throwing popcorn at the screen for one,” he added with a grin.

Emma chuckled, tangling the threads at the end of the blanket between her fingers. “It’s a prerequisite if you’re watching idiots fail easy questions on game shows, Copper should know that.”

“Aye, indeed.” Killian gave her an innocent glance. “There is one thing you have in common, though.”

“And what would that be?”

“You hog the blankets,” he sagely replied, grinning when she rolled her eyes.

Emma watched as he moved the empty tray between them to the floor and patted the cushion next to him. She knew she probably shouldn’t move, shouldn’t give herself a chance to reenact the very same snuggly position she was trying to forget about only a few hours earlier… But the moron was pouting his lips at her like some sort of adorable buffoon. And he was still coming down from his magic pill high so it’s not like it actually meant anything anyway. Sighing in a more put-upon fashion than what she was really feeling, Emma scooted closer to Killian, smirking when he lifted her arm and dropped it over his shoulder, sinking in closer to her. 

“You’re very cuddly for a Swan,” he murmured. “Some swans bite. I’ve seen it on YouTube,” he added in a serious tone.

She draped the blanket over their legs, shaking her head with a soft smile when he rested his head against her shoulder. “Yeah, well, don’t push me or I just might,” she teased, feeling the reverberations of his chuckling against her body.

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind,” he said in a low tone, the humor imbued with something else that made a few goosebumps appear on Emma’s arms.

She gathered herself, giving him a pinch on the arm. “I don’t even have to look at your face to know your eyebrows are in supreme waggling mode right now,” she replied in a joking tone, hearing him hum in reply.

They sat in comfortable silence while the judges gave the remaining MasterChef contestants a pep talk. Emma absently lifted her hand to card through Killian’s messy hair, smiling when he let out a steady yawn and closed his eyes, falling closer against her body.

“I missed you, Swan,” he said quietly, his mouth brushing softly against the skin of her collarbone where her t-shirt had slipped to the side.

Emma remained quiet, softly stroking his hair until his breathing evened out. “Ditto,” she murmured. 

* * *

The living room was lit only by the flickering of the television when Killian cracked one eye open, slowly sitting up from where he was laying on the couch with a blanket tucked around him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to recall why he felt something missing beside him – and whether it was still the year 2015 after his nap or if he’d slept through a decade.

“Thank god you’re finally awake, Sleeping Beauty, you snore like a freight train.”

Killian whipped his head to the side to see David smirking at him from the worn leather recliner in the corner, sipping from a mug. “Watching me sleep are you, mate?” said Killian, his voice slightly raspy. “How romantic of you.”

“Well I wanted to throw a bucket of cold water over your head, but Emma said I had to leave you be if I wanted to watch the TV,” David replied, reaching over to turn a lamp on. He grinned when Killian grumpily blinked against the intrusion. “Oh, and she also said to tell you I’d make a great daffodil, whatever that means.”

“I’ve no clue,” said Killian, bending down to gently rub his ankle. “I took some pills my brother gave me, which I believe he may have purchased from a nefarious witch running illegal trade from her cauldron if this sluggishness is anything to go by.” He straightened up and turned back to his friend, only just realizing what he’d said moments ago. “I can remember now that I was watching the cooking show with Emma, though. Where did she go?”

David took another sip of his coffee. “She went with Mary Margaret to get some takeaway to eat before my lovely wife and I make the drive home. Something nice and greasy for all of us to enjoy after last night’s debauchery.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “As the sober one who retired early, do pray tell what debauchery you speak of,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh you know, the usual,” David said with a shrug. “Will and Robin putting on an encore performance of Single Ladies. Belle and Regina made great Beyoncés in your absence,” he added with a wink. “I think Ruby got it on her phone.”

“Is _nothing_ sacred these days?” Killian said incredulously, hiding a smirk when David did the ‘put a ring on it’ hand motion at him.

“Speaking of interesting things on phones,” David said lightly, fishing around in the pocket of his jeans to take out his cell. He swiped the screen and went into the gallery, finding the file he was after.

Killian screwed up his nose as David got up to pass it to him. “If this is a video of anything related to Scarlet and twerking, I have both been there and seen that and have the mental scarring to prove it.”

“No,” David laughed, sitting on the armrest while Killian took the phone. “I think you might be OK with this one.”

Giving his friend one last side eye, Killian glanced at the screen, a dry comment falling silent on his lips as he looked at a photo of himself and Emma from this morning, curled up on the couch. He was asleep on her shoulder and Emma was looking at him with a soft smile on her face. Killian glanced up at David. “Does Swan know you have this?”

“She thinks I deleted it,” David replied, affably rolling his eyes when Killian gave him a pointed look. “Oh come on, she’s my family, we’re allowed to be pains in the asses with one another.” He plucked the phone from Killian’s hand, where he was still staring at it in curiosity, and gave him a grin. “Besides, I can’t delete it. You’ll probably want to use it for your wedding invites.”

“ _What_?” Killian choked, his face blushing furiously. “Don’t be a wanker, mate,” he retorted, pelting a pillow at David’s head. “We’re just friends.”

“Please,” David scoffed, easily dodging the missile. “You two couldn’t be more married if you tried – and this is coming from married guy of the year.”

“I apologize, let me amend: you’re a _modest_ wanker,” Killian muttered.

David slipped down to sit on the couch properly, resting an arm over the back of the couch. “Do you know why I picked you up from the airport last night?” he asked.

“Because you cherish my company?” Killian mockingly replied.

“Obviously.” David drummed his fingers against the cushion. “But it was also because Emma ‘claimed’ she forgot she was on driver duty and had already had a couple of drinks,” he replied. “But I know for a fact that she’d had it marked in her diary from the very moment you left for the UK.”

Killian stared at the TV, recalling the hushed conversation with Emma from the night before. He gave David a glance out of the corner of his eye. “She may have mentioned last night that she was nervous to see me,” he said offhandedly, picking at the hem of his t-shirt. “God knows why.”

“You do know why,” David said matter-of-factly. “Or at least you probably _hope_ you know why. It’s along the same lines as you asking me ten times on the drive back last night if you smelt like stale airplane air and if you should have shaved.” He pointed at Killian with a gleam in his eyes. “You were nervous to see Emma too because you both realized over those two months just _why_ you missed each other so much.”

Taking a moment for David’s words to lay out in the open, Killian turned to him with an anxious expression. “She’s my best friend,” he said quietly. “What if I stuff things up royally?”

“Trust me,” David replied, hearing the sound of keys rattle at the front door. “You won’t.” He stood up to grab some plates from the kitchen. “And FYI, yeah, you probably should have shaved. You look like a hipster caveman.”

The pillow sailing through the air collected its mark this time.

* * *

Emma stood in the corridor outside of her apartment with Mary Margaret while they waited for David to finish up in the bathroom before he and Mary Margaret drove home. Emma smiled as her friend gave her another fierce hug goodbye. “Geez, calm down, it’s not like you guys live on another continent,” she laughed as Mary Margaret pulled back and swatted her on the shoulder. “You’re literally half an hour away. I’m meeting you for coffee on Wednesday.”

“I know, I’m just happy when we all get to hang together,” Mary Margaret smiled, fixing up the side of her beret. “It’s nice.” She smirked at Emma. “And I’m happy for _other_ reasons too.”

Frowning, Emma tilted her head in confusion before realizing what her friend was insinuating. “Oh for the love of, not the couch thing again,” she groaned. “You and David are seriously incorrigible.”

“But you two looked so cute and…”

“We were sitting on a couch together, whoop-de-doo,” Emma sarcastically replied. “Someone call the romance police, we’ve got a hot case of libido lounging on our hands here.”

Mary Margaret folded her arms, throwing her an exasperated glance. “Look, I know we already spoke about this while we were getting food, and you did a magnificent job of ignoring me.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes while Emma gave her a mock curtsy. “But I really think you should take a chance and let Killian know how you feel.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” Emma retorted, scuffing her shoe against the old, faded carpet. “We’re best friends and I’d like to keep it that way without any weirdness.”

“Well that’s interesting, because I thought things might have already been weird what with you two sharing a bed last night.” Mary Margaret arched a triumphant eyebrow Emma’s way at her friend’s impression of a gaping goldfish.

“How the hell did you…”

“I may have been slightly tipsy last night,” Mary Margaret supplied, tilting her chin up in defiance when Emma snorted at her. “So when I was trying to make my way to the guest room I accidentally opened Killian’s door instead, and there you two were,” she said, a grin spreading across her lips. “Curled up under the blankets together like two adorable peas in a pod.”

Opening her mouth to retort, Emma soon gave up and slumped against the wall, burying her face in her hands. “I’m really worried I said something stupid last night,” she muttered, lifting her head to face Mary Margaret. “Drunk me is pretty frickin’ chatty.” She winced. “And prone to snuggling as it turns out.”

Stepping closer, Mary Margaret gave Emma’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t be too alarmed if I were you, Emma. As far as Killian is concerned, nothing you say is stupid. Plus he couldn’t take his eyes off you last night.”

“Pssh, that’s your fuzzy wine memories talking,” said Emma, ducking her head down.

“Trust me,” Mary Margaret said with a wry smile, as David opened the front door to join them. “I didn’t have nearly as much alcohol as some.”

“Ugh, please don’t say the A word for at least another couple of days,” said David, pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek. “My eye keeps twitching every time it’s mentioned.” He grabbed Emma in a big hug. “See you next time, drunkypants,” he smirked, snickering when she punched his arm. “Thanks for having us.”

“Safe driving,” Emma replied as David picked up the overnight bags. “Call me when you get home.”

“Now who’s the one acting like we live on another continent?” Mary Margaret teased, fishing around her purse for the car keys. “Perhaps that energy can be directed towards a certain someone who actually _was_ on another continent?” she added with an innocent shrug. “Just food for thought.”

David grinned. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

“ _Goodbye_ , you two,” Emma replied in exasperation, ignoring their laughter as they walked down the corridor to the elevator. Taking a deep breath, Emma opened the door and walked back into the apartment. 

Her nerves soon dissipated into a foreboding sense of disappointment when she realized that the television was off and Killian’s bedroom door was closed. He hadn’t even waited to say goodnight. Emma collected a few glasses from the coffee table and brought them into the kitchen, hearing the familiar sounds of a Skype call coming through just as she noticed her laptop set up on the kitchen table. Setting the glasses down, she approached her computer, confusion making way for mild amusement when she noticed that Killian was the one calling her. She sat down and accepted the video call, smiling when he appeared, sitting on his bed.

“Hello, Swan. Long time no see,” Killian greeted her with a broad smile, just as he did every time they Skyped one another while he was gone. 

She rested her chin in her hand. “What on earth are you doing you idiot?” she said with a chuckle. “You’re home now. We can go back to face-to-face conversations, remember?”

“Aye, I’m well aware,” he replied, scratching at his ear in a sheepish manner. “But you see, there’s something I wanted to say that is making me feel quite anxious. So I was hoping your screen Dave set up for me would act as a nice barrier if I needed quickly duck and hide.”

Emma’s heart thudded at a faster pace at his earnest expression and she willed herself to take a steadying breath. “And what would that be?” she asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the shakiness in her voice.

He gazed at her while he collected his thoughts, before bringing the laptop closer to his face. “I have a feeling we may have explored parts of this conversation already this weekend, but between bouts of alcohol and pain pills I don’t think we’ve been on the same page at the same time as yet. But…” He blew out a long breath, ducking his head down before he looked her straight in the eye. “I missed you terribly while I was away. And not in a ‘roommates’ or ‘best friends’ sense.” Killian gave her a shy smile. “In a ‘what the bloody hell am I doing so far away from the woman I love’ kind of way.” 

His smile started to falter as Emma just sat there staring at him in shock. “Uh, Swan? Do I need to opt for my duck and hide plan, because you should probably let me know if…” Emma suddenly stood and backed away from the laptop, letting the chair clatter to the ground behind her, causing Killian’s heart to fall. He sat there staring at the empty screen, muttering curses under his breath towards David and his terrible words of encouragement. His bedroom door flew open just as he was closing the laptop lid and setting it on his bedside table, his eyes widening at Emma standing there with a wild expression.

“Sorry I disappeared,” she said, clutching the door handle. “Bad connection.” She hovered in the doorway for a few more seconds before a mood that could only be described as ‘fuck it’ crossed her features and she darted across the room to lunge on top of Killian, planting her lips to his in a fierce kiss.

Letting out a grunt of surprise, it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate, curling his fingers through her hair as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He bit at her bottom lip, his breath hitching in his throat when her tongue darted out to circle his. 

Emma’s hands clutched at his t-shirt as she pressed into him, legs straddled over his lap as she moaned softly into his mouth, his lips meeting hers in an insistent fashion until she pulled away to catch her breath. She smiled when Killian’s lips chased for more, resting her forehead against his.

“So it turns out you definitely don’t need to go into hiding,” she murmured against his lips, grinning when he stroked his hands up and down her back.

“That’s very good to know,” he replied in a low tone, drawing his head back so he could gaze at her. He lifted a hand to tenderly thumb at the dimple in her chin.

“And also,” she said in a shy voice, smiling at him. “You should probably know that I love you too.”

Beaming, Killian surged forward to capture her lips in another kiss. “If I had have known this was the outcome I may have found a way to injure my ankle sooner,” he murmured with a laugh.

“Me too,” Emma grinned, before burying her head in his chest in a sudden recollection. “I just got a flashback of trying to carry you Bodyguard style,” she groaned.

“Shall I sing the soundtrack to you?”

“I think there are much better ways you could be using your lips right now.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her before carefully rolling her over to press her into the mattress. “You’re a marvel, Swan,” he said, trailing kisses down her neck. “Have I told you that?” 

Emma drew his head back up to kiss him properly. “Maybe once or twice,” she smiled.


End file.
